A/N: Hello mes amigos! (I really have no idea why I said that.) Welcome to my reboot of an old fic that I discontinued last year. there are some minor changes, Isobel is now in her sixth year and this is set during the fifth book.

This is dedicated to Christopher Riddle because you made me get off my bum and write it.

Chapter 1 - Voldermort! Voldermort! Vol-der-mort!:

A light tore open the darkness. Sickly green illuminating the graveyard, shining off the headstones. The jet of light struck the taller of the two boys straight in the chest. Immediately the consciousness, the life left his grey eyes and he tumbled to the floor.

-xoxox-

Not for the first time this week, I woke up with a damp pillow. Tears had seeped into the soft cotton, leaving darker patches in their wake. For what must have been the fortieth time during the holiday I'd dreamed about the day I watched Cedric Diggory die. As you can imagine, it wasn't the nicest thing to have haunting my dreams. I contemplated getting up, but then thought better of it. My older sister, Margo, would be prancing around as usual, my mother would be anxious about me and would try to get Dad to cheer me up. Demetrius Chamber's dad jokes were more than I could handle so instead I just rolled over onto my front pressed my face down into the pillow.

"Merlin's sake, Iz. Are you still in bed?" Margo's must have been on the landing. I grunted, words were beyond me at that moment.

"Margo, can you come down stairs for a moment dear?" My mum might have phrased it as a question but Margo and I both knew it was an order. With a sigh my sister trudged off. Peace at last. I thought and returned to my brooding.

I Imagine that you are wondering how I got a front row seat to one of the biggest tragedies of the year. Well, I have always had this ability. Before it has always been useful, good for sneaking around and cheating on tests but it's not that simple. I see random moments from the future, at very random times. My eyes glaze over and people around me often think I'm staring at them, leading to awkwardness. 'Awkward' is a good description of what I am. I'm scared of people, I often forget how to talk or walk when people watch me and my clumsiness is so acute that to 'Iz' means to trip over, according to my roomies.

Sample sentence: As he stepped through the door he caught his foot and Izzed over.

I have shoulder length black hair, unremarkable brown eyes and nothing particularly captivating about any of my features. I'm pretty I guess but not in an attractive, man-magnet sort of way. Not like Cho. Despite our massive differences we are actually best friends. Being the only girls on the quidditch team means that we are very close. Although we're in an strange situation right now, I think she blames me a little for Cedric's death.

I heard footsteps approaching and screwed up my face. A soft tap at the door followed. I stayed quiet but my mum entered anyway. She pointed her wand at the curtains and they violently opened, banishing my cosy monochrome world of darkness.

"I'm asleep! Leave me alone!" I wailed, reaching for my own wand.

"No, sorry dear." Mum said, holding up my birch and unicorn hair wand. "Look, you're back at Hogwarts next week, don't waste your whole holiday in bed." She reproved.

"Wand!" I demanded, finally sitting up in bed.

She sadly shook her head. "No magic until you are downstairs."

"Muuuuummm!" I wined, staring after the woman who called herself my mother.

"Muuuuumm!" Margo-Devilspawn imitated from the kitchen.

Angrily and with tears prising their way out of my eyes, I pulled a teal dressing gown over my flannel shorts and "Remembrals'" band T-shirt. I shoved my feet in to comic fluffy slippers with massive, pink, stuffed rabbit heads on the top and made my way downstairs, half wishing I would 'Iz' over and die.

Margo-Kelpiehead was sitting on a stool pulled up to the breakfast bar and was languidly sipping coffee. She was three years older than me. A leggy, auburn haired, electric blue eyed bitch. She'd been blessed with all of the amazing characteristics, I'd got the boring ones. In my mum's youth she had been a model, featuring in a few Gladrags catalogues and Witch Weekly issues, great things were expected of her daughters. Margo didn't disappoint and straight after she graduated last year she was recruited by the Daily Prophet to write a style and life column. The same newspaper also ran an article entitled 'Like Mother Like Daughter", they only mentioned my name and age. Needless to say, I have a lot to prove.

"Mornin' sleepy head." Margo drawled from behind her spotty mug. I ignored her and opened a cupboard, then another and another. "If you're looking for the pumpkin juice then I'm sorry, I drank it all." she smirked.

I dived at her, knocking her off the stool and causing the coffee to spill all down the front of her pretty light pink robes.

"RIGHT!" Mum shouted. "That is enough! Margo." she pointed up and Margo-Bludgerface presently dissapperated, but not before shooting me a death glare.

In a softer tone she continued. "I know that it's hard, Isobel. Your ability is a double edged sword...I just wish you would accept it." She stretched out her arms, evidently expecting a hug. Anger flamed through me.

"Accept it!? Accept what exactly? That people think I'm weird or accept the fact that for the rest of my life I'm going to have to live with the memory of Cedric dying and the rebirth of Voldermort!?" Her face had lost it's colour and her arms had dropped back to her sides.

"Don't. Don't say the name, Isobel."

"Voldermort! Voldermort, Vol-der-mort! I saw him come back to life so, to be honest, I don't think it matters what I call him!" With that I snatched my wand off the counter and ran away, swiping the tears from my cheeks as I went.

I was technically under-age but I just didn't care, the Ministry would only be able to tell that someone was doing magic at the Chambers' residence not that it was me, the only unqualified witch in the place. I summoned my clothes and shoved them into my trunk haphazardly. Then came my cauldron, with a little rearranging I managed to squeeze it in. My new schoolbooks were next, finally, my pride and joy; the Firebolt, it was only an inanimate object but it really deserved a capital letter.

I sat for a moment on top of my burgeoning trunk. What was I doing? I was being insane, that's what. Where could I run off to anyway? I couldn't very well sleep on a bench at King's Cross until tomorrow morning, especially not in my pajamas and dressing gown. From Cho's letters I could tell that she was having a really tough time, looking after her would just make me worse. Charlie was on holiday until five this evening, another six hours in this bloody house would kill me. Veronica and Marrietta were definitely not my favourite people in the world and I didn't trust myself to be alone. This left only one:

Roger Davies.

-xoxox-

So, what do you think?

Please review and follow if you liked it, I am notoriously bad at updating to pleading reviews really help me. Thank you so much for reading!